Deep as the Marrow

  “Recordings of some of our conversations.”

  Salinas’s smile was tight and grim. “That is impossible.”

  “Because you have a bug jammer?” Snake said. “It worked on the tape I made of our first meeting—I got nothing but hiss. So I went out and found a filter that eliminated the interference.” He pointed to the tape. “I believe you’ll find your voice quite recognizable. Especially during last night’s conversation, when you explained the ultimate purpose of this endeavor.”

  “Mierda!” Salinas turned a deep red as he slammed his fist on the desk and let loose with a string of curses in Spanish.

  He won’t kill me, Snake told himself. I’ve got the kid, I’m hooked into Vanduyne. He needs me. He won’t kill me.

  Across the desk, Salinas closed his eyes and calmed himself. Then he opened them and glared at Snake.

  “I am insulted. We made a deal.”

  “And I made a deal with my people that I’m probably not going to be able to hold to. Things change, right?”

  “And you intend to blackmail me?”

  “Absolutely not. I’m on that tape too, you know. I’m the guy who did the snatch and told Vanduyne what the ransom was going to be. The last thing in the world I want is for anyone to hear that tape. What I do want is to make sure that you have an ongoing interest in my good health. I’ve got a dozen copies and I’ve—”

  “Twelve tapes! Chingate!” Actually only four more: another in his jacket, one hidden in his house, one in his safe-deposit box, and one with a lawyer. If Salinas found those, Snake wanted him to go crazy looking for the rest.

  “They’re all safe. But if something happens to me, they go to the FBI, the DEA, the Secret Service, and so on. I know you folks own a lot of people, but when this shit hits the fan, nobody’s going to want to be downwind.”

  Salinas continued to glare, saying nothing. Snake was sure he knew how difficult it would be for the feds to get a conviction on the basis of an audio tape, but at the very least they’d shut down his money-laundering business and make his life a nightmare. So Snake tried to mollify him. Even though he was protected now, this was not a man he wanted pissed at him.

  “Hey, look. I can understand how you feel. You took all these elaborate, state-of-the-art precautions against anyone eavesdropping or bugging you, and you wind up on tape anyway. But this could save you in the future. Technology’s always changing. You’ve got to stay on the cutting edge if you don’t want someone to get the drop on you.”

  Salinas said nothing, but he seemed to be cooling.

  “And look at it this way: Knowing I’ve got this kind of life insurance will let me do a better job. I mean, I’m already juggling the kid and Vanduyne, and soon I’ll be dodging the entire federal government. I don’t want to have to keep looking over my shoulder wondering what you’re planning for me too. That could be very distracting.”

  Salinas continued to stare. But no question, the rage was fading from his eyes.

  Snake leaned forward and put on a smile. “And tell me the truth: If positions were reversed, wouldn’t you do the same thing?”

  A little smile from Salinas now, and then a nod. Snake felt his muscles relax. You silver-tongued devil, you.

  “I suppose you are right,” Salinas said with a sigh. “I cannot hold it against a man that he protects himself. And you are right. I will learn from this.” And then he frowned. “But I am hoping that you do not wish to extend the coverage of life insurance to your two helpers.” Snake thought about that. Here was a chance to save Paulie and Poppy. He’d be pushing it, but he had Salinas over the proverbial barrel.

  And then he thought about the aftermath. Paulie and Poppy rich and getting stoked every day. One of them sees the story about Vanduyne and his kid getting wasted, how he was our dead or deathly ill President’s personal physician… wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to put it all together.

  Could you trust a couple of loadies with something like that? Yeah, right. They’d be racing to see who could babble about it first. No, Salinas’s approach made the most sense.

  Snake held Salinas’s gaze and shook his head. “No. This is just a personal policy. No group coverage.”

  6

  If Snake had felt high after leaving Il Giardinello last night, he was stratospheric now. He’d done it! He’d stared down the goddamn Colombian cartel. They blinked!

  Or at least Salinas did. But that was enough. He’d sent the message and it had been received loud and clear: You don’t fuck with Snake.

  He began punching the air—left-right-left—as he made his way to his car. He was Ali, he was Tyson. Float like a butterfly, sting like a cruise missile. When he reached the car he knew he was too wired to sit behind the wheel.

  A car? A car? Even a fucking Concorde would be too slow right now!

  He grabbed his laptop from the trunk and set off walking through Georgetown like he owned it. Up Wisconsin, then left toward G.U. along the cobblestone streets with their obsolete trolley tracks, past the brick-fronted town houses, and up to the campus.

  The walk burned off enough adrenaline to allow him to seat himself in the library and plug into one of the computer jacks. He logged onto his account and checked his e-mail.

  He grinned when he saw the letter from Vanduyne, a rush of pleading, whining, moaning how it was all a mistake and how they got cut off by accident and to contact him again right away and please-please-please don’t take it out on his dear little Katie.

  Yeah, well, maybe it was an accident and maybe not. Maybe this was a game Vanduyne was playing. But Snake was boss. Even the Colombians knew that now. And Snake didn’t allow games, or even accidents.

  He began typing a reply that would tell Vanduyne just that, then stopped. Nah. No reply. Let the pussy stew. Let him go crazy waiting for a reply. He’d get his reply.

  Tomorrow morning.

  In his mailbox—his real mailbox.

  7

  Poppy watched through the eyeholes of her mask as Katie drained the glass of milk.

  “Want some more?”

  Katie shook her head.

  Poppy glanced at her watch. Three hours since the fit. The kid had woke up about an hour ago but still didn’t seem to be all there. Her color was better but her fine dark hair was all like tangled.

  At least she hadn’t had another fit, thank God. And she wouldn’t, either, as long as Poppy had something to say about it.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Another shake of the head, then a sob. “I just want to go home.” Poppy slipped her arms around Katie and hugged her close.

  “I know you do, honey bunch. And you’ll be going home real soon, I promise you.”

  “But when?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it won’t be too long.”

  “That’s what my Daddy always says.”

  “When’s that?”

  “When we’re in the car and I ask him how long till we get there, and he always says the same thing: ‘It won’t be too long now.’ Even if we just started out, he says, ‘It won’t be too long now.”

  Poppy laughed. “Yeah, my Daddy used to say something like that, only he’d go, ‘Not much further now.’ I guess all daddies are alike.” Except mine’s dead.

  She thought about Dad, how she’d heard about his heart attack six months after he was buried. And she still remembered Uncle Luke’s voice on the phone: “That wasn’t no heart attack. Your father died of a broken heart. And we both know who broke it, don’t we.” Yeah, she knew. Totally.

  Katie pulled away and stared at her. “Why are you wearing a Minnie Mouse mask?”

  “I told you how I can’t let you see my face, but I thought you’d like this one better than the Roseanne mask. You do, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how about your new clothes?”

  Katie looked down at her plaid shirt and Oshkosh overalls. “They’re okay, I guess.”

  She’s right. Poppy thought. They’re okay. Barely okay.

&n
bsp; She’d sent Paulie out for new masks and dry clothes and underwear. She’d given him the size and that was about it. He’d done good with the masks—Minnie for her and Mickey for him—but the clothes… “At least they’re dry.”

  She reddened and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  Poppy grabbed her and hugged her again. “Don’t you be sorry! Don’t you dare be sorry! That wasn’t your fault. It was ours. We forgot to give you your medicine. That won’t happen again.”

  What’s up with me? she wondered as she pressed that skinny little body close against her. She hated kids. Never wanted any, but now all she wanted to do was like hold and protect this one. It’s like I’m a different person.

  She remembered waking up with a headache, and hearing this rattling and thumping coming from somewhere in the house. She’d tried to wake Paulie but he was like dead to the world. So she got up and went to see… and went to pieces when she found the kid in the middle of a fit.

  Not the first time she’d seen a fit. God, no. She’d seen far more than her fair share and had hoped and prayed she’d never see one again.

  “I promise you. Glory,” she whispered into her hair. “It’ll never happen again.”

  Katie said, “My name’s not Glory.”

  Poppy stiffened. Glory? Had she really called her Glory?

  “You’re right,” she said quickly. “Of course it isn’t. What was I thinking?”

  Was that what this was all about? Glory? Was Katie the kid Glory might have been? If she’d lived? She repressed a shudder. That was scary. And yet…

  The phone rang in the other room. She left Katie on the bed and opened the door enough to poke her head through just as Paulie picked it up and said, “Yeah?” Had to be Mac.

  “Yeah, she’s fine… Nope. No problems. Got the pill into her just like the directions said…”

  Poppy caught his eye and glared at him through the mask. He shrugged, like. What else am I supposed to say?

  Better say nothing, Paulie. Mac finds out you almost messed up his little package and he’ll be like all over you.

  She was still pissed at Paulie. Really, how could one man be so stupid? He had the pills in his goddamn pocket. All he had to do was— She cut off the train. She got crazy every time she thought about it. Better to leave it alone.

  But she was still royally pissed.

  “What?” Paulie was saying. “Aw, come on! You gotta be shitting me, man!” Uh-oh. What else had gone wrong?

  She saw Paulie glance at her but his gaze skittered away. He turned his back and lowered his voice, but she could see his shoulder muscles bunching up and knew he was arguing. He stole a second gun-shy look her way, then took the phone into the bedroom.

  Obviously, Paulie and Mac weren’t seeing eye to eye about something. She wondered what it was. No matter. She’d find out soon enough. She closed the door and returned to Katie.

  Took a long time, maybe fifteen minutes, before Paulie knocked on the door.

  “You wanna come out here a minute?”

  She slipped out the door, closed it behind her, and immediately pulled off the mask. Cool air felt great on her face. Hot and humid inside that plastic. She blotted the moisture off her face with her sleeve, then looked at Paulie. Jesus, he looked totally spooked. His eyes were darting all around the room, anywhere but at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “That was Mac.”

  “Who else would it be. What’d he want?”

  “He says the package’s father ain’t cooperating.”

  “Ain’t cooperating? You mean he don’t want her back?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Mac says he’s giving him a hard time.”

  Poppy looked at the bedroom door. Jesus! Somebody steals your little girl and you haggle over the price? Like what kind of father does that?

  “The son of a bitch.”

  “Yeah. So…” Paulie was staring real hard at the floor. “So Mac wants us to send the guy a persuader.” Poppy froze, staring at Paulie, who was still looking at the floor. She’d been gut punched once, and that was how she felt right now. She thought she was going to puke. But she controlled it. And she controlled the urge to launch herself at Paulie and start screaming like a banshee. She controlled everything.

  And slowly she turned to ice.

  Then steel.

  No one was going to hurt that little girl.

  “Uh-uh,” she said softly. She kept her voice low, even. “Not a chance.”

  Paulie’s head jerked up like he’d been slapped. He stared at her like she was a stranger. Obviously he’d expected a different reaction.

  “Hey, Poppy, we gotta do it.”

  “Really? Says who?”

  “Mac. I told you—”

  “Mac says, ‘Jump,’ and you say, ‘How high?’ That how it goes?”

  “You think I want to do this? You think I want to hurt a kid? Christ, gimme a break! But this is Mac’s gig.”

  “I don’t care if this is God’s gig—no one’s touching that kid.” She started to turn away but he grabbed her arm.

  “Look. Mac wanted us to send the guy one of her fingers. I talked him down to a toe. A toe. Poppy! A freaking little toe! She’ll never miss it!”

  Poppy wrenched her arm free. “Not a fingernail, Paulie! Not a hair! You got that?”

  “It’s got to be done. Poppy!”

  She went to the guest room door, turned, and faced him.

  “Over my dead body.”

  She could see that Paulie didn’t really believe her. How was she going to convince him? How could she stop him?

  He took a step toward her. “With or without you, it’s gotta be done.”

  “Through me first, Paulie. You’re gonna have to beat me to a total pulp before you get to her. I know you can do it. But will you do it? I hope not. I don’t think it’s in you. But if you do, you better kill me. That’s all I can say, Paulie—you better kill me. ‘Cause if you don’t, and you hurt that little girl, I’ll kill you. Some night when you’re sleeping, I’ll put a knife through your heart. That’s my promise: You hurt that kid and some morning real soon you’re gonna wake up dead.”

  He stood and stared at her, his hands opening and closing at his sides.

  “Christ! You’re really serious!”

  She nodded. Yeah, she was. And that amazed her. She barely knew this little Katie and yet she was ready to die for her. What the hell was going on?

  “You’re forgetting Mac, aren’t you?” he said. “We don’t do what he wants, we could all wake up dead. And then he can take any damn part of her he feels like.”

  That shook her. Paulie was right. Mac wanted what he wanted. He was paying you, he expected you to take orders. Who knew what he’d do if they told him to shove his persuader.

  Paulie ran both hands through his hair. “This is just great! I do what Mac wants, you’ll kill me. I do what you want, Mac kills me. How the fuck did I get into this?”

  Poppy felt sorry for him. She was putting him in a real jam. She didn’t want to see Katie or Paulie hurt.

  “There’s got to be like some way out of this,” she said.

  “Yeah?” Paulie said. “Like how? Mac wants a piece of her to send to her father. He’s not going to settle for anything less.”

  Poppy didn’t know where the idea came from—she just blurted it out: “All right. Send one of my toes.”

  Paulie gaped at her. “Are you nuts? That’s not only crazy, that’s stupid. Like her father ain’t gonna know the difference. What’s happened to you. Poppy? What is it with you and this kid? I thought you hated kids.”

  “I… I do,” she said. “But not this one.” Poppy leaned back against the door. Suddenly she felt miserable. Her ice and steel were melting away. She was all shaky inside.

  “Can we call a truce?” she said.

  “Sure.” Paulie had his hands on his hips and was walking around in circles. “But that’s not gonna help us when Mac calls back with the address of where
I’m supposed to deliver his persuader. What do I tell him then?”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  He stopped and stared at her. He looked worried— real worried. “Don’t be so sure.”

  “I think I need a hug,” she said, taking a small step toward him.

  He continued to stare at her, then shook his head and opened his arms. He wasn’t smiling—she could tell he was a long way from that—but she really did need a hug.

  She fell against him and clutched him to her.

  “Don’t let’s fight, Paulie. We’re in this together, and together we’re bigger and better than Mac.”

  “I ain’t so sure of that. One thing’s for sure, we ain’t meaner. And that’s gonna get us in trouble.”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  “We’d better.” He kissed the top of her head. “You make me crazy, you know that? You’ll be the death of me yet.”

  Poppy clutched him tighter. Dear God, she hoped not.

  8

  Daniel Keane watched his grandson swing from rung to rung on the jungle gym and felt a little sick. Not because he feared he might fall. No, in this upscale Mclean, Virginia, playground, the ground under the slides and swings and jungle gym was padded. Danny had already fallen twice and bounced right back up again.

  Little Danny—five years old, named after his grandpa, and full of boundless energy. A regular little monkey on those bars. But thinking of Danny and how precious he was to everyone who knew him led to thoughts of John Vanduyne’s little girl. And thus the nausea.

  Dan knew her name… Katie… knew everything about her and her father. And he’d fed all that information to Carlos Salinas. Who used it to kidnap her.

  Dan didn’t know for sure that it had been done, but he’d checked on Vanduyne yesterday and learned that he’d left his office almost immediately after arriving, and hadn’t been heard from since. Dan had a pretty good— and pretty sickening—idea what that meant.

  That poor man. What he must be feeling.

  Dan tried to imagine what it would be like to hear that someone had kidnapped Danny. He found it beyond comprehension.